


The Doctor Cooks

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: The Doctor decides to treat Rose and Jack to an evening of fine dining, Doctor-style.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Doctor Cooks

The Doctor Cooks 

“Geez, Doc!” Jack wheezed as he followed behind the Time Lord as quickly as he could, given that he was laden down with shopping bags and baskets. “Did you have to buy out the entire market?”

“Nah… I never went near the Gilgon sector even though we…” The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and saw how much Jack was carrying. “Here, let me help you!” He reached back and relieved Jack of a woven basket fillet with paper-wrapped parcels, unaware that it was actually the lightest of the bunch.

“Now, I just have to stop for…” He stopped so quickly that Jack stepped right into him, jostling him and the basket, making several packages drop out. “Aahh! There it is!” The Doctor set off at a fast march, never noticing the dropped items, leaving Jack to struggle with balancing what was in his arms and retrieving them with no place to put them.

“You’re killing me here, Doc!” Jack muttered mutinously never once thinking the Time Lord could hear him. “Why isn’t Rose out here being your personal Sherpa, anyway?”

“She’s down with a cold,” the Doctor never broke stride, “and the TARDIS made her stay behind.” He again looked over his shoulder and grinned as Jack hurried to catch up. “Time Lord hearing, remember, human?” 

“Cheeky!” Jack shoved the packages back into the basket – which the Doctor promptly thrust back into his hands – and then looked around. From what he could deduce, they were in a seafood market although very little looked like any fish or seafood he’d ever seen. However, the distinctive smell of ocean, that indefinable something that only came in on a sea breeze was all around him. “Ummm… Doc?”

“Hmmm?”

“I didn’t know there was a ocean around here…” Jack frowned. “Or even on this planet.”

“Oh, there isn’t.”

“Well then, how can I smell…” Jack glanced up but the Doctor was gone. “Doc? Doc!” He looked frantically. “Doctor?!”

“Here!” A head popped up from behind a stall counter.

“What are you doing back there?” Jack scolded. “Get out here before you get caught!”

“Nah…” The Doctor disappeared again only to reappear crawling halfway inside the display case, picking up and putting down various pieces of something aquamarine blue. “Gotcha!” He handed his choice to a hovering sale-bot whose four arms made short work of wrapping it. 

Coming back out to stand by Jack, the Doctor stuffed his latest purchase under Jack’s arm, then stepped back and fumbled through his coat pockets, finally pulling out a tattered list. “Okay… got this and this…” He used the shortest pencil stub Jack had ever seen to check things off. “Did we get…” He opened one of the bags on Jack’s arm and poked around in it. “Ah, yes! Got the last one there…” 

He plucked out a jar of something pink and lumpy and held it up to the sun. “What in great dillmith is this, I wonder?” He sniffed the jar and wrinkled his nose at the pungent aroma seeping from around the lid. “Goddess but that stinks… Oh yes! Now I remember! Perfect!” He beamed at Jack and stuffed the jar back into the bag. “How did you know I need that! Good man!” 

Now that the Doctor had mentioned the smell it filled Jack’s nostrils. “That’s disgusting!”

“You’ll see… It makes the best toast you’ve ever had!” The Time Lord waved his list and spun in a circle. “This way… just a couple of things left!”

***** 

Exhausted, Jack flung himself down on his bed and toed off his boots before the TARDIS could softly hum a reminder. He’d learned that lesson when she’d left his bed unmade for a week after he’d gotten sticky yellow goo on the duvet. He’d even tried making the bed himself but every time he returned to his room the bed looked like three Weevils had been wrestling in it.

He’d checked up on Rose when they’d gotten back to the TARDIS; she was stuffy but feeling much better, thanks to tender loving care from the TARDIS which had kept her supplied with hot tea and the closest thing to homemade chicken soup she could create. He’d emptied the overflowing bin of its wadded up tissues and refilled the water carafe on her night table before plopping down beside her.

“You’re lucky you’re sick, Rose, the Doc’s been shopping for all this weird stuff!” Jack sighed dramatically. “I think he’s gonna cook again!”

Rose burst into laughter at the sight of Jack’s face. The last time the Time Lord had prepared a meal for them, swearing the recipes had been passed down through his family, the food on their plates – their starter, in fact – had suddenly sprouted wings and flown away. They’d spent three days running around like fools with butterfly nets catching the small crustaceans which were currently soaring around a small enclosed section of the greenhouse waiting for the Doctor to take them back to their home planet. Apparently they were an endangered species that had been illegally poached and sold on the black market for exotic alien foods.

Jack stretched his arms over his head, feeling the muscles release their painful cramps and began to regale Rose with the tale of his adventure with the Doctor. He’d spent two hours carrying the Doctor’s shopping around the market, plus the ten-minute trudge – uphill, no less – “Better view from up here!” the Time Lord had announced cheerfully – back to the familiar blue box and then to top it off, the Time Lord had gone inside the ship and absentmindedly let the door slam in Jack’s face, knocking that same basket of paper-wrapped parcels to the ground. Three of the blasted things had been round enough to roll halfway back down the hill, meaning Jack had to drop his load just inside the door and chase after them. 

“Geez, Jack!” The Doctor turned to him as the poor man huffed and puffed past him toward the kitchen which mercifully, the TARDIS placed right next to the console room. “What took you so long! I thought you were right behind me!” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he began typing furiously into the antique typewriter, an 1829 ‘typographer’ original which he’d gotten from the inventor himself, William Austin Burt. Rose had tried to get him to upgrade to a laptop or even an Apple MacIntosh but the Time Lord had refused, saying “Sorry, Rose… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…” 

With a flourish, the Doctor spun a dial and pushed a lever and the TARDIS lurched into motion, sending Jack stumbling precariously toward the kitchen. He didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to hold onto everything as he bounced off the wall and clipped the doorway sharply with his shoulder as he went into room.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” he grunted in pain. 

The TARDIS took pity on her handsome hero and there was a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade – albeit made from lilac-coloured lemons – waiting for him on the counter.

Jack dumped his burden on the table, took a big gulp of the perfectly balanced sweet-tart drink and started unpacking things from the bags and baskets but then stopped. “I have absolutely no idea what any of this stuff is much less where it goes.” He gazed in bewilderment; other than a few jars in various sizes, everything the Doctor had purchased was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string.

“Hey, Doc?”

“Yes, Jack?” 

“I’m not sure what to do with this stuff,” he scratched his head. “What’s supposed to go in the fridge?”

The Doctor’s head popped around the doorway. “Oh, never mind, Jack, I’ll take care of it.”

“Great, cos I am well and truly pooped.” Jack yawned widely and picked up his lemonade, which the TARDIS had thoughtfully refilled for him. “There’s a shower and a nap in my future. Call me for dinner, yeah?”

***** 

“Aaaaahhhh…” Jack slowly opened his eyes, smacked his lips and went to scratch his belly but when his fingers encountered his T-shirt instead of bare skin, he realised that he’d fallen asleep before getting undressed and taking his shower. A quick sniff of his armpits told him that bathing was most definitely necessary if he was ever to leave his room again. The TARDIS switched on the lights in his ensuite in encouragement and Jack heard the water start and moments later a light cloud of steam came drifting toward him.

Eagerly stripping and throwing his clothes in the hamper, Jack spent the next ten minutes luxuriating in the hot water, enjoying the varying pressures the TARDIS gave him, especially the hard pounding spray that beat down on his neck and shoulders. Feeling refreshed and definitely smelling better, Jack threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he grabbed his empty glass and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. Halfway there his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. While they were in the market the Doctor had offered him something black and putrid smelling, swearing it tasted far better than it looked, but Jack just couldn’t bring himself to try it.

Unsure of what he was going to find when he got there, Jack plastered a smile on his face and stepped into the kitchen only to find it clean and empty. He left his glass in the sink and went to find the Doctor, finally locating him in the library sitting in his favourite chair with a cup of tea and a book.

“Doc, I thought you were cooking,” Jack plopped down in the chair opposite and snagged a biscuit from the tea tray.

“Nah, not tonight,” the Time Lord shook his head. “Couple of things need to marinate for a day or so. You’re on your own tonight.”

Jack frowned, mentally reviewing the contents of their pantry and fridge. “Okay, how about fish-n-chips; we haven’t had that in a long time.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Using the fish for dinner.”

“Okay…” Jack thought again. He knew that whatever the Time Lord made for them it would be weird and alien and he just wasn’t in the mood, so Jack tried to think of something he’d enjoyed while living on Earth that would be tasty and quick to fix. He snapped his fingers. “Got it!”

“What?” The Doctor looked up from his book in time to see his companion dashing out the door. “That man’s always running, I swear,” and he returned to his reading.

On his way to the kitchen Jack stopped by Rose’s room. “Hey there,” he smiled at her. “How’s it going?” 

“Actually, I’m feeling pretty good.” Rose pushed her hair out of her face. “Whatever the TARDIS puts in her chicken soup really works.”

“Great! I’m gonna fix dinner tonight…”

Rose smiled happily. “Thought we were gonna have to eat… whatever?”

“Doc says it’s ‘marinating’,” and Jack made air quotations around the word. “Not really sure what that means, but I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I think I might have a relapse tomorrow night,” Rose teased.

“Not a chance! I’m not suffering by myself,” Jack shook his head vehemently. “You’ll be there if we have to eat in here sitting in your bed!”

“You wouldn’t!” Rose gasped. 

“I’ll rat you out in a heartbeat, sister,” Jack declared.

Rose stuck out her lower lip and pouted. “You’re a meanie!”

“Yup,” Jack stuck out his chest in return. “And proud of it. Now, go take a shower and meet me in the kitchen; I’m cooking tonight. How does tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches sound?”

“Really?!” Rose like up like the sun. “Earth food?” She loved travelling the Universe with the Doctor, discovering new things, trying everything, but sometimes she really longed for simple foods like her mum used to fix. Okay, the soft-boiled eggs and toast soldiers they’d had last week were tasty, even if the eggs were the size of footballs and the yolks were rainbow coloured, and she knew that the ‘chicken’ the TARDIS had used to make her soup with actually had three legs but it was still tasty.

“Earth food,” Jack held up his hand. “Although, I hope you don’t mind that the soup will be green instead of red.”

Rose scrambled out of bed. “Don’t care! Now get out so I can get undressed.”

Twenty minutes later the trio were sat around the kitchen table dunking gooey toasted cheese sandwiches into thick, delicious green tomato soup.

“Oh, God, I really missed this,” Rose groaned around a mouthful. “This is so good!”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Thank you, thank you.” He raised his sandwich in salute. “Doc, what do you think?”

The Time Lord blew across his spoonful of soup before sucking it in noisily. “It’s all right,” he acknowledged reluctantly. “Certainly is comforting, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the Alkarian stew my grandmother used to make.”

***** 

Jack and Rose ran through the doors of the TARDIS shaking snow from their coats and hair following a successful snowball fight. They had relocated to a small moon where related games and activities, and Rose’s favourite, sleigh rides drawn by reindeer whose antlers glowed in the dark, getting brighter the faster they trotted.

“Hey, Doc!” Jack exclaimed. “Think fast!” and he tossed a snowball at the Time Lord, catching him unaware, smacking him right in the chest.

“Ugh!” The Doctor clutched his chest and staggered back dramatically. “I’m melting, I’m melting!” and with a small shriek he fell to the floor, where he lay writhing as if in excruciating pain.

His companions stared at him for several seconds, watching his performance and listening to his pathetic moaning before they burst into raucous laughter. 

“Good one, Doctor!” Rose gasped, leaning against Jack for support. 

Jack wiped his eyes. “You really had us going there for a minute!”

The Doctor sprang to his feet and brushed off his front. “Liked that, did you?” He took a deep bow. “Came first in my Amateur Dramatics course.”

Jack took his and Rose’s coats over to the handy coat tree the TARDIS had set up for them; they’d taken the hint the first day but the Doctor insisted on tossing his coat over the nearest coral strut whenever he entered the ship.

“Thank you.” Rose went over and hugged the Doctor. “That was so much fun!”

“Yeah, thanks, Doc,” Jack joined them. “Really worked up an appetite, I’m starving! When’s dinner? Whatcha make us?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Won’t be ready til tomorrow; needs to marinate a while longer.”

“So tonight’s pot luck?” Rose perked up. Earlier in the day, the villagers had gifted them with a large casserole-type dish that had smelled delicious as they’d carried it home. “I’ve got dinner tonight!” and she headed off down the hall at a quick pace. “You two go wash your hands and I’ll see you in twenty!”

***** 

The day of the Doctor’s big feast arrived and both Jack and Rose were both apprehensive about what they might find but a little curious too. The Doctor had hinted of delicious things to come and during breakfast he had urged them to eat lightly at lunch, saying they’d thank him when they saw the abundance of delicacies he was going to prepare for them. He’d then evicted them from the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

The moment Jack left his room he detected the aroma of cooking food. Hurrying to the kitchen, he stuck his head in the now unlocked and open door and sniffed appreciatively. “Wow! That smells great, Doc!” He winced when he heard the note of disbelief in his voice as he wandered over to the old-fashioned Aga – the Doctor did love his antiquities – and lifted the lid on the closest pot.

“No!” The Time Lord smacked his knuckles with a wooden spoon before Jack could see what was inside, although the bit of steam that escaped made his mouth water. 

“OW!” Jack rubbed the red spot on the back of his hand indignantly. “Geez Doc! I just wanted to see!”

“Not until it’s ready. I’d say another twenty-three minutes, forty seconds.” The Doctor turned to look at Jack, surveying him closely from head to foot. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to dress for dinner once in a while,” he commented sounding like a disapproving mother. “Not every occasion calls for denim.”

Mouth agape, Jack let the Doctor shoo him from the kitchen and out into the hall for the second time that day.

“And stop by Rose’s room on your way to change, let her know,” and the Doctor shut the door in Jack’s face.

Still processing what had just happened, Jack stood there for several moments before shaking his head in bewilderment and heading back towards the bedrooms.

“Rose?” He rapped his knuckles on her door. “You decent?”

“Yeah, come on in,” came the cheery reply.

Jack stuck his head in the door. “Doc’s being really weird about dinner, says we have to dress, no jeans.” 

Rose looked at her faded blue jeans, jumper and trainers then back at Jack; he could see there was excitement in her eyes. “You know what this means, right?”

“Noooo…”

“Yes!” She bounded over and grabbed his arm, dragging him out and down the hall. “We get to raid the Wardrobe!” 

Jack’s mind immediately pictured the warehouse-sized room with its many floors and endless racks of clothing collected with great abandon from everywhere in the Universe the Time Lord had ever visited. “Rose, we only have twenty minutes and I don’t think being late is an option.”

“It’ll be fine! See, here we are!” Rose pushed open a set of double doors. “The TARDIS will know exactly what’s appropriate for tonight.” She let go of Jack’s hand and went to the first rack of clothing by the door, pulling off a beautiful emerald evening gown and holding it up against her body. She wrinkled her nose, put the dress back and chose a navy blue gown but rejected it cos she didn’t like the sleeve length. Three dresses later she found the one she knew immediately was The One. 

She held it up to herself and then held it out to look at it more closely; noticing the tag she read: ‘Buttercup Yellow Crepe Cocktail Dress with Floral Appliqué at Neckline’. Without a backward glance she raced for the changing room, leaving Jack to fend for himself.

With a deep sigh, Jack turned to the closest rack of men’s clothing, his eyes going at once to a three-piece suit in a medium shade of charcoal with thin stripes of a deeper grey. For some reason he found it not only intriguing but erotic, feeling an electric tingle in his fingertips as he stroked the fabric, and the image of a dark-haired young man completing the outfit with a blood-red silk tie and a fob watch on a chain popped into his mind. His lips curled up in a seductive grin and for the second time that night, his mouth watered.

Shaking his head, Jack put the suit back and rifled through the remaining options, and like Rose the moment he saw the right outfit he knew. Taking his choice he followed Rose to the dressing rooms. He was back out a few minutes later, waiting for Rose to appear and when she did she took his breath away.

“Zip me up, Jack?” She turned her back to him. “Jack?” Glancing over her shoulder she could see him staring at her. “Earth to Jack!” she said loudly, snapping her fingers at him.

“Huh?” Jack let out a deep breath. “Wow, that’s… it’s… you…" He pretended his fingers were shaking as they pulled the zipper from her lower back up to her shoulders. 

Well aware of how pretty she looked, Rose hurried over to the three-way floor-length mirrors the TARDIS thoughtfully provided and slowly turned in a circle. The dress was form-fitting, the neckline of nude illusion and small cap sleeves adorned with embroidered flowers, and the soft colour made her pale English skin glow. Pumps of the same colour and a bracelet of peridot gemstones completed her look while peridot hairpins held her hair off her neck in a loose bun. With a satisfied smile, she went back to Jack’s side and linked arms with him, drawing him to the mirrors.

Standing together, Jack had to admit that they made quite the handsome couple. His outfit was soft trousers and a tunic the colour of the ocean on a bright summer’s day and made in the traditional style of the Boeshane Peninsula and for a brief moment memories of his home clutched at his throat. As if knowing what Jack was feeling, Rose squeezed his hand and leaned into him for a moment.

She looked up as the TARDIS dimmed the lights in the Wardrobe. “Come on,” she led him back to the door. “I think she’s telling us it’s time to go.”

They followed the aroma of delicious food down the hall but instead of walking into the kitchen – whose door had mysteriously vanished – they entered the newly created dining room. The walls were made of natural-stained olive wood, its grain of whorls and knots burnished to a high sheen which reflected the light from the simple crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

There was an unusual three-sided table in the centre of the room, with a lazy-Susan topped by a tall candelabra in the middle of it. In front of each chair there was a gold charger topped with a dinner plate, a salad plate and a soup bowl, all in creamy bone china adorned with a thin gold rim. Set in proper order were a salad fork, fish fork and dinner fork to the left and a meat knife, fish knife and soup spoon to the right. Above the china was a snowy white linen napkin with a gold ring around it with crystal water and wine glasses by it.

“Holy cow!” Jack whispered. “Have you ever…”

Rose’s eyes were huge. “This is… Wow!”

“Thank you.” Jack raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You have truly outdone yourself tonight, you beautiful creature, you.” 

They turned at the sound of the door opening to see the Doctor rolling in a rather large serving cart laden with covered dishes. The chandelier dimmed slightly and the six candles on the table lit up with dancing flames. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served!” the Doctor announced grandly, looking up to see Jack and Rose for the first time. It was amazingly obvious the moment he saw Rose because his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open just a bit. 

“Rose…” His voice came out in a hoarse croak so he cleared his throat and tried again. “You are… beautiful.” 

Jack also cleared his throat. “And me, Doc? Don’t you think I’m at least pretty,” he pouted as he spun in a circle. 

The Time Lord blinked himself out of his trance and glanced at Jack. “Yes, my boy, you are very pretty indeed. That colour really brings out the blue of your eyes.” He returned his gaze to Rose who smiled at him.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself, Doctor.”

“I do try now and again,” the Time Lord preened, opening his jacket to show the paisley patterned lining, and then he lifted one foot so they could see his Converse which matched the green in the paisley.

The Time Lord’s companions would always swear that they saw the Doctor blush just a bit when he heard Jack’s low wolf whistle of appreciation.

“Okay, enough fashion show!” The Doctor clapped his hands, all business again. “Take your seats, please.”

Jack led Rose to her seat and held her chair for her, and when she’d sat he took her napkin and flapped it open with a dramatic snap before laying it across her lap. As he took his seat the Doctor began transferring the four dishes from the trolley to the lazy-Susan.

“This all smells amazing,” Rose breathed in. 

“I cannot wait to try all this!” Jack rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Now this is Kralmaglian stew.” Beaming with pride, the Doctor lifted the lid from the soup tureen. “The recipe actually calls for Danminn tentacle tips, which impart a rather delicate flavour to the broth, but since I couldn’t find any of those at the market, I threw in a couple of cans of anchovies.” 

“Anchovies?” Rose gulped. “Those nasty little fishy things my mum puts on her pizza?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, they both come from the sea, right, so I figured, what's the difference?”

Her mouth opened and closed and she looked at Jack but he was of no help because the Doctor had replaced the first cover and lifted the lid on the second dish. The look of horror on the man’s face should have warned her that something was really wrong and that she should definitely not look, but she couldn’t help herself. It was like driving past an accident on a London street, she didn’t want to see but she couldn’t not look. It was a compulsion.

The Doctor noticed that both Jack and Rose were staring at the dish but completely missed the looks of shock and revulsion. “Now I am exceptionally proud of this. It’s Flexlar eyeballs gently sautéed in clarified butter and served in a delicate sauce of shallots, garlic & white wine. I developed the recipe myself and I’d say it’s worthy of a Michelin star!” He chuckled. “You have no idea how hard it was to find the blue eyes cos they’re the most tender and they sell out the fastest; the brown ones are sort of tough, chewy and stringy and they need to cook for at least a week if not longer.”

He frowned darkly. “Take my advice and never ever order the green eyes. They’re…” He gave a deep body shudder. “Just… don't.”

end


End file.
